


I Bet He'd Smile

by benwisehart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Human!Castiel - Freeform, Hunter!Castiel, M/M, Originally written for the DeanCas Secret Santa, angel!Sam, angel!dean, reverse!verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benwisehart/pseuds/benwisehart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is surprised when the first thing Dean has to say on the matter of Christmas is to ask him what they’ll be eating. Perhaps he shouldn’t be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Bet He'd Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted here for tumblr user casfucker: http://deancasweek.tumblr.com/post/71330899242/for-casfucker-reverse-verse

Castiel is surprised when the first thing Dean has to say on the matter of Christmas is to ask him what they’ll be eating. Perhaps he shouldn’t be.

He isn’t stupid. He knows that Christmas is a highly commercialised holiday loaded with pagan traditions and corporate moneymaking schemes. Growing up as a hunter, of course, he’d never put much stock in the holiday; there’s never been enough time to. Even so, he can at least see why it’s important to a lot of people, and being angels, it’s not unreasonable to think that Sam and Dean would like of it as something worthwhile in the more colloqial sense.

“Where’s the pie?”

Castiel looks up abruptly. “Excuse me?”

Dean was standing on the other side of the motel room when he appeared, but upon taking a moment to look over Castiel—sitting on his bed in the process of cleaning weapons—he comes closer, folding his arms. “It’s Christmas Eve,” he says, like he genuinely thinks Castiel wouldn’t know that. “I’m pretty sure there’s meant to be food.”

_You don’t even need to eat_. “Where’s Sam?” Castiel asks, not bothering to answer Dean’s question. It’s still unusual to see one brother without the other.

“Sam doesn’t care about food,” Dean says, grabbing the gun from Castiel’s hands as if he owns it. In his head, he does. He pauses, looking over the conspicuously undecorated room. “This is where you’re staying tonight?” he asks, and looking at him.

Sighing, Castiel gets to his feet. “I don’t do Christmas, Dean.”

If he was expecting Dean to quietly explain the importance of holidays or try and tell him the true meaning of Christmas, he’s disappointed. Instead, he gets, “I stopped the apocalypse. Buy me pie.”

He gets that a lot, now that he thinks about it.

_Angel, my ass._

*

“Dean, can I ask you a question?” Castiel asks, and the two of them are now on either side of a booth at Biggerson’s with two mince pies—both of which are in front of Dean, although one is currently making its way towards his mouth.

“Hm?” Dean asks, pausing mid-bite to look at him.

“You and Sam aren’t…ordinary angels,” Castiel says, sitting back in his seat, fingers playing idly with the handle of his coffee mug. He smiles slightly. “God knows I get that, but I’ve always imagined angels would think Christmas would be more…”

He shrugs, and Dean sets his pie down with a frown. “Religious?”

“I suppose.”

Snorting, Dean breaks a piece of pastry off and puts it in his mouth. “Jesus was born in September,” he says. “And most of the Christmas traditions they have down here don’t have a lot to do with celebrating his birth, so the whole holiday doesn’t have a lot of  _actual_  religious basis. If it did you wouldn’t get non-believers doing it.” He holds up the small pie on his plate, grinning. “Stuff like this? That’s what’s really being celebrated. Humans, man. They spend millions of years evolving to the point where somebody thinks to grind up bits of fruit and spices and stick them in a pastry to eat on Christmas Day. And it’s fucking amazing.” He puts the rest of the pie into his mouth to illustrate his point, spending the better part of thirty seconds struggling to get the oversized mouthful under control. Castiel looks on with fondness in his eyes.

“So it doesn’t bother you?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee and looking around the restaurant. It’s loud, bustling with laughter and smiling families in Santa hats while ‘Frosty the Snowman’ plays over the speakers. “That that’s what it’s come to represent?”

The second pie halts an inch from Dean’s lips before he sets it down again with a grin. “Hell no. Why would it?” he asks, jerking his head towards their surroundings. “All these people are happy. They’re having fun together. Battles get put on hold to celebrate Christmas. Billions of people just…being with their families and having a good time. If Jesus were here, I bet he’d smile.”

Castiel doesn’t go so far as to suppose what Jesus might have thought about Christmas, but he is taken by a sudden urge to reach across the table and take Dean’s hand.

He doesn’t, of course. Dean is still eating, but he’s happy to watch Dean eat. Sam was never quite as taken by such a simple human necessity as eating, but with Dean, there is a spark in his eyes whenever he picks up a fork, like he has discovered the secrets of the universe. Castiel will never get tired of watching Dean eat.

The restaurant they chose for lunch isn’t far from the motel. They didn’t take the car, so they have to trudge through two blocks of frosty footpath to get back, and Castiel flatly refuses to let Dean fly them. They set out when Dean finishes his pies, their breaths forming clouds in front of their faces while Castiel pulls his coat tighter around himself.

Surprisingly, Dean reaches to take Castiel’s hand while they walk, making some comment about how cold his fingers are but not looking at him as he says it. It only takes a moment for Castiel to give a squeeze in return, his lips curling into a smile. They aren’t usually the type for handholding, but right now, he’s happy. Perhaps the festive season is getting to their heads.

Neither of them speaks for the rest of the walk home, falling into a comfortable silence. A hunter and an angel, and right now, their biggest problem is snow.

They finally drop hands when they get back to the motel, and Dean stands back while Castiel’s numb fingers fumble with the key.

There is a small pine tree in a pot on the table when Castiel opens the door, tiny red baubles dangling from its branches. It takes him all of one second to realise that it wasn’t there when they left. He almost reaches for his gun, but Dean pushes into the room ahead of him, looking at the tree as well with approval.

Castiel realises. “Did you do that?”

“Sam,” is all he says, hand dipping into the pocket of his jacket and emerging again with a small object in green wrapping paper. Castiel sees his name sprawled across it when Dean places it under the tree, and he feels a rush of warmth in his chest.

“I haven’t gotten you anything,” he says, looking at Dean’s face.

“Asshole,” Dean says, smirking.

“There’s still one day left.” Castiel shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up and turning back to Dean, and he realises that there is a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling fan. He raises his eyebrows at Dean. Sam again?

“You can buy me something later,” Dean says, allowing the teasing ‘you’d better, asshat’ to remain unsaid. When the two of them finally bring their lips together, they’re both still smiling.

It’s not the most frenzied kiss they’ve ever shared, but it’s slow and sensual and full of intimacy, and Castiel can’t keep his hands to himself. He combs through Dean’s hair with one hand while the other brushes lightly over Dean’s chest before he wraps an arm around his waist. Dean is every bit as earnest, making a satisfied hum with his throat as his hands go to Castiel’s waist, and the two of them find themselves kissing on the edge of the bed only moments later.

Castiel and Dean have known each other for years, but those years have been wrought with difficulties and there’s never been time to think of one another. Castiel thinks of him now. Thinks of the fire in his heart and the light in his face, and perhaps he doesn’t say it as much as he should, but Castiel loves him. He loves every part of him, and he loves the moments that they share. Right now, he knows that Dean loves him too. And he’s happy. They’re both happy together.

Maybe Dean is right about Christmas after all. 


End file.
